New World, somewhere at sea.
Whitebeard sat in the central seat on the Moby Dick's deck, holding a massive sake jug. Every so often, he tipped his head back and took a huge swig of strong liquor, drinking heartily with the commanders around him.
Marco leaned against the railing, idly turning an apple in his hand as he chatted with Jozu and Vista beside him, his eyes full of ease.
The entire Moby Dick was suffused with a relaxed, cheerful atmosphere, just as it had been every day and night.
To them, as long as Pops was there, as long as their family was beside them, no matter which sea they were in within the New World, it was the safest harbor.
Suddenly, on the distant horizon, a small sailboat came hurtling toward the Moby Dick like mad. Its sails bulged in the wind, and its hull rocked violently amid the waves.
Before the boat had even come to a stop, a Whitebeard Pirates subordinate, drenched in sweat and pale as death, leaped down. He scrambled onto the deck, his legs going weak as he nearly fell. His voice trembled beyond recognition as he howled tearfully:
"P-Pops! Something's wrong! Sphinx... something happened to Sphinx!!"
With a deafening crash.
The enormous sake jug in Whitebeard's hand slammed heavily onto the table, shattering the wooden tabletop into pieces as liquor splashed across the floor.
He abruptly raised his head. The hearty smile on his face vanished in an instant, replaced by a grim expression. The wrinkles on his face twisted together, and the eyes that always held a gentle smile now contained nothing but bone-chilling coldness.
His voice exploded across the deck like muffled thunder, every word carrying crushing pressure:
"What did you say?! Say that again!"
"Sphinx... the main village on